


While The Music Plays

by Hamyheikki



Category: The Secrets of the Immortal Nicholas Flamel - Michael Scott
Genre: Dancing, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-22
Updated: 2021-01-22
Packaged: 2021-03-14 14:46:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 938
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28922307
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hamyheikki/pseuds/Hamyheikki
Summary: Upon arriving to Quetzalcoatl's home, Aten hears something he hadn't heard in a long while; music.Immediately, concerns arise.
Relationships: Aten/Quetzalcoatl (Nicholas Flamel)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 4





	While The Music Plays

**Author's Note:**

  * For [hatshepslut](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hatshepslut/gifts).



> A speed-fic for @JK!   
> You asked for fluff and you got angst/hurt.  
> ... There was an attempt, alright?

It was not often one could hear music in the mansion Quetzalcoatl had made his home. A sound of wild birds, perhaps. A gentle chiming of the windbells. But not music. Especially created by the human race. 

And yet, as he stepped past the threshold, Aten’s ears picked up a soft tune that could only be achieved by what humans called “classical music”.

The melody was slow in tempo, bouncing around the open first floor, past the main hall and down to a corridor towards the living room. Intrigued, Aten moved along with it, casting quick glances around as he went. There was no sight of servants, no cooks nor lackeys to halt his steps. In fact, the more he listened to the silence behind the music, the more obvious it became that he was very likely alone in the building. 

_ Almost  _ alone.

He could hear a faint tapping, something heavy moving up ahead. With new speed in his stride, Aten passed the washrooms and the library, not stopping until he was standing behind a closed door leading to the room he knew housed most of Quetzalcoatl’s collection. Few couches as well, if memory served. They had spent many an evening locked inside, sometimes talking, sometimes merely sitting in comfortable silence. Those moments of stillness were one of the reasons Aten found himself coming back, time and time again. The silent acceptance he had not found a match to during his long life. 

Silence now burned away by the soft harmony of piano keys. 

The door was not locked. It rarely was when they weren’t both already inside. Perhaps he should have felt more unease, letting himself in without as much a callout, but they were well past such trivial manners. Quetzalcoatl wouldn’t mind. Not when it was him.

“An early hour to arrive, even for you.”

Aten’s head spun around, his eyes landing on the man setting a vase on a dark-wood shelf.

“Trusted you wouldn’t mind terribly. The word has it that you’ve grown reclusive as of late.”

Not a lie, per se. Like was the habit of his kind, Aten had never quite gotten rid of his desire to keep an eye out for his friends as well as his enemies, and having a source of information inside Quetzalcoatl’s household had felt like a necessary evil. If something were to happen... There was only so much the more traditional forms of communication could provide.

Not to mention the fact that the arrangement went both ways. 

“If that’s the case, I must have a word with my staff.” The vase now securely in place, Quetzalcoatl turned around as well. “It seems you have been misinformed.”

“I did not see any servants on my way here,” Aten moved at a leisurely pace, taking in the room with mild interest. “Which, you must admit, is an uncommon sight to walk into, when speaking of your house.”

Quetzalcoatl frowned. “It is hardly your concern. My home is mine to manage.”

“Indeed. But it does raise some questions.” There was barely a few feet separating them when Aten eventually stopped, arching his brow when Quetzalcoatl’s gaze fell. “Why the sudden urge for solitude?”

Taking a step back, Quetzalcoatl’s scowl deepened. Around them, the music shifted, bringing about a new track. A far faster tempo, accompanied by a hanging sense of threat looming behind the notes.

“Can’t a man simply wish to be alone with his thoughts every now and then?”

One long step closed the distance for good.

“Not when you make me worry like this.”

The silence, usually so comforting and familiar, felt like a suffocating blanket. When it became clear Quetzalcoatl wouldn’t breach it, Aten reached out a hand. Keeping his moves slow, he ran his fingers along the skin and cloth. 

“Would you care to dance?”

It was almost comical, the way Quetzalcoatl blinked rapidly before the glare.  _ “What?” _

“I said,” Aten muttered, pulling the other man closer with ease, “would you care to dance with me?”

Now firmly in Aten’s arms, Quetzalcoatl had to tilt his head back in order to continue his staring. With their difference in height, Aten was more amused than offended when the sharp eyes pierced him. “Why would I wish to do that?”

“You have music playing,” he stated, voice level and calm. “Need there be another reason?”

Before Quetzalcoatl could utter another objection, Aten tugged him in and quickly moved his balance to the side. Surprised by the sudden movement, Quetzalcoatl was forced to follow, his arms tangling up with Aten’s as the man swept him away. A small smile on his lips, Aten directed them towards the middle of the room. Without missing a beat, he continued the spin, carefully maneuvering his partner’s body until they were pressed together from waist to chest. 

Something flickered in Quetzalcoatl’s gaze just then. A glimmer of something fragile being pushed down, deeper within. Witnessing it made Aten’s own heart twist in return, but he bit his tongue. All he allowed himself was a fleeting moment of shown solidarity, his lips pressing against the warm skin.

Quetzalcoatl’s posture shifted.

“I will let you have this today, Aten. But I do wish to discuss.” He felt the weight slump against his shoulder. It was easy enough to adjust. “Not yet.”

The music floating around them was reaching an end, but while the notes faded to nothing, Aten kept his hold, kept them spinning and moving, never stumbling despite the way his lover trembled. He maintained the pace, only tightening his grip when he sensed the shaking insisting. 

“I shall be here when you do.”


End file.
